


Quoth the Raven

by Laine



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: F/M, Future Fic, Porn Battle, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-06
Updated: 2012-02-06
Packaged: 2017-10-30 17:28:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/334288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laine/pseuds/Laine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Queen in the North receives a letter from King's Landing, and she calls upon her Lord Commander for advice.</p>
<p>Written for Porn Battle XIII.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Quoth the Raven

“I had a raven from King’s Landing today.”  
  
Jaime knows, of course- he screens all of her correspondence, delegating whatever he can and passing along only what is important. She trusts him this much, has this much faith in his judgment- he often thinks to ask her why, but never does.   
  
The chamber is cold, as all chambers in Winterfell are cold. In addition to his breeches and tunic, Jaime wears several furs over his shoulders, and he pulls his armchair as close to the dim fire as he can. But Sansa stands in nothing but a wispy nightshift, her legs and arms bare.  
  
She approaches his seat, placing her hand on the back and looking down at him. “Have you anything to say about it?” she inquires as she props her hip up on the arm of the chair.   
  
She plays these games sometimes, dancing around her point and speaking in a code of teasing questions and clever witticisms. He recognizes it as learned behavior, knows not to fault her for it- but he sometimes wishes to take her shoulders in hand and shake her until the facade crumbles and she speaks as Sansa Stark once again.  
  
Jaime rubs his jaw to relieve a bit of the tightness before he answers her. “As your Lord Commander, I think it a rather fine idea. Aegon Targaryen is King in the South, you are Queen in the North- there is a certain symmetry to it.” She shifts on the arm of his chair until her shoulder presses against his, but he chooses to ignore that for now. “It would certainly please the High Queen- and your brother, too. I’m sure he would never suggest it unless he had your very best interests at heart.”   
  
 _I’m playing the game too, now,_  he realizes as her hand slips into his hair, tugging gently until he turns his head to face her. She has already unlaced her nightdress, and her position provides easy access to her soft, white breasts.   
  
“Is that what you really think?” she sighs, her hands pulling his hair tighter as his lips and tongue work over her nipples.   
  
“It is a good match, a strategic match,” he murmurs into her skin. She whimpers when he rolls her right nipple between his teeth, and again when he wraps his arm around her waist and pulls her onto his lap.   
  
One little pale hand lowers to rub him through his breeches while the other pulls his face upward for a searing, desperate kiss. Jaime rocks his hips into her palm, whispers to her as she kisses along his jaw and nibbles on his earlobe- “You are both young and beautiful and powerful, and your children would be dazzling.”   
  
Sansa bites the side of his neck, hard enough to make him cry out. Her fingers tear at the laces of his breeches, and she makes quick work of removing her own smallclothes. He inhales sharply at the feel of her wetness against him, wants to grip her hips and pull her down onto him- but she hovers there, and he waits.   
  
She lifts her hands and places them on his shoulders, fixing him with those often-impenetrable blue eyes- she brushes her fingertips lightly along the sides of his neck as she speaks hoarsely-  
  
“I should marry him, then. That’s what you think.”   
  
She is not playing anymore, that much is clear. There’s a darkness, a terrible need in her expression- he knows what she wants him to say, knows what he wants to say-  
  
The pad of her thumb trails over his lower lip, and he kisses it delicately.   
  
“Sansa...” he begins, only to be interrupted by a shake of auburn hair and a soft smile.  
  
“You wouldn’t marry me, even if I asked,” she murmurs, her voice stripped of artifice- just Sansa, only Sansa.   
  
There’s no accusation to the statement- it is simple fact, something that Jaime knows and Sansa knows and that they’ve always known. He has to remind himself of that, has to tell himself that the sadness in her eyes is just a trick of the light.   
  
Sansa leans in to kiss him, sliding her slick cunt over his hardness. “Thank you for the advice- you know how I value it,” she whispers into his mouth.  
  
She takes him into her, and they speak no more.


End file.
